Saturday, August 1, 2009

estelle

there are no rivers here
no bridges long or tall
no shelter to find in the rain
when you nod and fall

sun and win intoxication
makes her cheeks turn red

she rides the horse along the shore
of that filthy lake
will you make the promise too?
of the beauty of the fake

her stallion takes it all away
they want to understand
and so she hides her scars away
deep beneath the land